Of Messes and How To Clean Them
by starlightisms
Summary: The Detective Boys kill a perfectly fine cake. [ For Poirot Cafe's Super Short Contest: Mess ]


**Of Messes and How To Clean Them**  
( a detective conan short )

AKA: The Detective Boys kill a perfectly fine cake.

* * *

The first thing the Detective Boys noticed when they scampered into Agasa's warmly familiar house was that it was unfairly empty.

Little steps — some quicker than others — pattered throughout the halls and rooms, soft calls of "Hakase?" lilting inquisitively through the air, but there was no response. Together, the five children scoured everywhere they knew to go, and one set of steps even went into the laboratories where the other four weren't allowed, but the house yielded no sign as to where the professor was.

"Where could he be?" Mitsuhiko wondered. Four of them gathered in the living room area, nestled comfortably on the soft cushions. Their missing member would rejoin them shortly. "Agasa-hakase told us to be here by eight, and it's already almost nine!"

"Yeah!" Genta agreed indignantly. He was particularly miffed at the absence, considering that he'd been dragged awake far earlier than he'd wanted to be. The previous night had been filled to the brim with games, and he'd gone to bed rather late. A lapse of foresight, perhaps, or simple negligence. "Haibara, where'd he _go_?"

The said girl was checking her phone. Without so much as glancing at the boy to acknowledge him, she answered, "He drove out early this morning, for some reason. I wasn't told where or why, but he should have his phone on him."

"Did you call him?" Ayumi asked, leaning over to peer at Ai's screen.

"I did. It went unanswered, so I texted him."

"Ah! Do you think he forgot?" Mitsuhiko glanced around, looking both for evidence of the contrary and for his peers' reactions. "Maybe he went to bed late like Genta-kun..."

Ai's lips twisted with slight disagreement, but before she could speak, their missing member reappeared.

"No, I don't think that's what happened." Sounding remarkably confident, Conan walked into the room with steady, patient steps. "Today's date is marked on his calendar; I doubt he missed that."

"I happen to know that he went to bed early, anyway," Ai murmured, cocking a brow at Conan. She then reassumed her neutral, distanced expression. "So, great detective? What did you find?"

"The calendar I mentioned before," he replied lightly. He paused for an instant afterwards, a sharp grin cutting over his features, before he added with a nonchalant shrug, "I also saw '8PM' marked pretty clearly in bold, which likely solves our—"

He was immediately cut off with a horrified chorus of "8PM!" from the three other kids, which caused Conan to twitch in annoyance at being interrupted. Ai merely leaned back into her seat, a watered-down smirk barely creasing her face. Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko proceeded to launch into a worried discussion about what to do, while Conan simply sighed and took a seat nearby but not directly next to Ai.

"I hope there's no scheduling conflict now that the time's different," Conan remarked, glancing at the harried trio. It was only twelve hours a difference, and likely only a small party for whatever reason, but the children treated it like it was the end of the world. "Worst comes to worst, I suppose he could reschedule for a later date... You'd have to make sure he doesn't eat the cake, though."

The word 'cake' appeared to be a homing beacon, because suddenly the other three kids turned their attention to him and echoed, "Cake?"

"Cake," Ai repeated flatly, looking mildly annoyed. "That explains a few things, actually."

"Where's the cake?" Genta cut in, having risen out of his seat. He was now bouncing in place excitedly.

"In the kitchen," Conan automatically replied, "on the counter, probably to defrost, since it was likely stored in the fre— hey! Guys!"

His calls fell on deaf ears, however, and he sighed as Genta vanished towards the kitchen with Ayumi and Mitsuhiko trailing him. That left him in the dust with Ai, who looked utterly disinterested. When he shot her a look, she daintily lifted her hand to her mouth as her lips parted in a ( largely faked ) yawn. "Better they split it amongst themselves than for Agasa-hakase to eat it all on his own," she murmured, and Conan snorted.

"I'd be more worried about—" _**CRASH!**_ "—... something like that."

Ai and Conan immediately rushed towards the kitchen, where they found a chair tipped, Genta and Mitsuhiko on the floor, and Ayumi staring in horror at what had once been a cake.

It was now under the chair, and part of the floor.

Conan narrowed his eyes. "What were you guys _doing_?"

"Genta wanted a closer look!" Mitsuhiko accused, pointing at the other boy.

"You said that we should use the chair!" Genta retorted, and Ayumi sniffled on the side — Conan sighed, having glanced them over and surmising that they were unhurt.

"It's alright," Ai said softly. She, too, relaxed upon realizing that the cake was the only casualty, along with maybe the chair. She beckoned Ayumi over. "It might be better this way."

"How?" Ayumi's eyes were wide and watery, but free of tears at the moment.

"Now Agasa-hakase can't eat all of this himself." Ai glanced at the mess disdainfully. "Blessings in disguise."

"But he spent money on it!" Ayumi insisted. "And he was gonna give it to us, and we messed it all up! What if he doesn't want to give us cake ever again because of this?"

Conan inwardly thought she was being overdramatic, but Genta and Mitsuhiko nodded solemnly as if it was a serious concern.

"We have to make it up somehow!" Mitsuhiko resolved, and Conan sagged with another sigh. "Conan-kun, help us come up with an idea!"

The three children stared at him beseechingly, and while any other time he might've challenged them to come up with their own solution... There was a fairly simple solution that would be easy to take advantage of. "Well," he began, "you can start with cleaning this up. In the meantime... Haibara, help me raid the kitchen. Let's see if he has any ingredients..."

* * *

When Agasa returned at 3:14 PM ( or so claimed the oven's digital clock ), he was greeted with the smell of freshly baked chocolate cake, three cheery grins and two dry smiles, plus a satisfied Subaru perched on a chair in the kitchen. ( He'd been bribed into coming over and helping with the promise of a slice of the final product. )

And on the table where the original cake had once been, a mildly burned, slightly lopsided, messily frosted, but wholly edible chocolate cake sat waiting.

( Behind it, the kitchen was in _shambles_. )

* * *

A/N: Surprise! I'm alive. Ish. Have this smol thing while I'm here.


End file.
